Chapter 127: Finale – Time Changes Everything
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
Lu Yao’s vision swirled. He forced himself to focus, counting the tiny, short-legged, scrambling snow leopards before him. One… two… three… a total of seven cubs, all looking barely two to three months old. And Zhou Yunchen was already gone.
The cubs seemed unusually attached to Lu Yao, wriggling and nuzzling his waist. He picked one up, kneading and stroking it. His fur was soft and thick—real, not a 3D projection. Perplexed, he summoned the holo-screen to check the morning’s indoor surveillance footage.
At the exact moment the snow leopard cubs appeared, Zhou Yunchen had already left the room, leaving Lu Yao’s bed empty. One by one, the cubs had somehow jumped out of his bedside drawer. But all that was in the drawer was a notebook. There was no extra-dimensional space. How could the cubs—wait…
He had placed the snow leopard fur and hair Zhou Yunchen had given him into that drawer. Now, only a strand of Zhou Yunchen’s black hair remained. The snow leopard fur turned into cubs?
Snow leopards themselves weren’t a product of human science—they were entirely shaped by Zhou Yunchen’s will. So it made sense, in a twisted way, that fur plucked from him could become a gaggle of tiny, indigo-eyed, squeaky balls of fur. It was still… Zhou Yunchen. Lu Yao suddenly called out loudly, “Deus, what time is it?”
“Hello, Director Lu. It’s 10:35 a.m., Star Ring Time.”
Lu Yao’s pupils contracted sharply. “I set my alarm for seven o’clock—what happened?”
“General Zhou Yunchen turned it off at 6:40.”
“Damn it…” Lu Yao cursed under his breath. He leapt out of bed, throwing on clothes and barreling for the starship departure zone.
The starship was scheduled to depart at eleven to enter the temporal current. Zhou Yunchen had deliberately made him tired and late, turning off his alarm—so Lu Yao would miss the departure and they wouldn’t have to face their separation directly.
Still in his pajamas, with only a jacket over him, Lu Yao sprinted across the Star Ring at top speed. Within fifteen minutes, he reached the control room, where rows of technicians were stationed at their consoles. Pushing open the door, he drew startled looks from everyone inside.
“Director Lu, is there a problem?” Professor Wang asked, alarmed at Lu Yao’s anxious and serious expression.
Lu Yao’s jaw tightened. “No. Proceed with the original protocol. Where is Zhou Yunchen now?”
“He’s entering the starship.”
Already aboard…
“I understand. You’re in full charge of the control room. I have something else to handle.”
Lu Yao bolted, racing toward the top of Star Ring City, where the starship would depart. The enormous luminous star ring spun silently and slowly in space, its spokes converging at the center and emitting a bright, high-energy beam toward the temporal current, controlling its flow.
A massive starship now rested at the top of the Star Ring, blocking nearly half of the view. A single shuttle had launched from the ring, heading for the starship Eternal. Lu Yao caught sight of Zhou Yunchen aboard the shuttle.
He ran faster than ever before, dashing past the segmented glass walls framed by steel columns. Everyone in his peripheral vision became a blur, retreating into the background. Only the colossal Eternal, looming high above, remained unchanged in his sight.
By 10:55 a.m., he had reached the very top of the Star Ring. Lu Yao pressed against the glass and called out, “Zhou Yunchen!”
Across the vast distance and the silent vacuum, Zhou Yunchen could not hear him. Sometimes, though… perhaps hearing wasn’t necessary. Inside the shuttle, Zhou Yunchen turned. Lu Yao’s distant figure appeared clearly in his eyes. He seemed to speak, but the distance was too great. Lu Yao could not make out his lip movements.
Only when Zhou Yunchen stood at attention and saluted did Lu Yao straighten his own posture, breathing heavily and filled with unnamable emotion, returning the military salute. The shuttle docked with the starship Eternal. The light of the temporal current flared brilliantly. Under Lu Yao’s long gaze, Eternal vanished into the boundless darkness of space.
Eternal had successfully entered the temporal current. After the initial thrill of the successful launch, there was little the humans of this timeline could do but wait. For the first three months, nothing happened. The Federation fleet even suffered several defeats due to energy shortages and command confusion caused by changes in leadership.
Three months later, however, the number of beasts began to noticeably decline. With Lu Yao’s upgrades to the new energy systems, the shortages gradually eased. By the ninth month after the Eternal’s departure, the Federation Academy detected that the alien rift at Alien Void had been successfully sealed, ending the beast war that had plagued humanity for nearly a millennium. Overjoyed, the Federation fleet swept through all remaining beasts, reclaiming all lost human territory within half a year.
To encourage humanity to rebuild, the Federation leadership decided to publicly reveal the formerly classified Hollow Strike Plan. For a time, General Zhou Yunchen—who had ventured alone into unknown danger—became a hero celebrated across the Federation. Lu Yao, who had developed the new energy systems and the Hollow Strike Plan, along with his scientific team, received countless accolades and gratitude.
Five years after the end of the beast war, the Fifth Victory Commemoration was held on New Blue Star. But the seat reserved for the Director of the Federation’s Mecha Research Institute remained empty. Those responsible for organizing the event and inviting guests were nearly frantic and had no choice but to seek help from Chang Jian.
Chang Jian hadn’t contacted Lu Yao directly; he had to use the Federation’s information system to locate him. He found Lu Yao sitting alone in the central hospital of New Blue Star’s Eighth District, holding a small snow leopard in his arms and reading a document intently.
“Why aren’t you at the commemoration?” Chang Jian asked. “You’re a living emblem of this victory. How can you not go?”
“A living emblem…” Lu Yao lifted his gaze, his expression calm. “You all cheer and celebrate, reciting Zhou Yunchen’s achievements as if he were dead, only to be remembered. I don’t want to go.”
Chang Jian was silent for a moment. “It’s been five years.”
“I know. Five years, and he still hasn’t returned,” Lu Yao said evenly. “He probably thought I could only hold on for three years. Two years ago, he had Zhao Minghe deliver a document to me, urging me to declare him dead and inherit his estate.”
“But you didn’t,” Chang Jian said, sitting beside him.
“I don’t believe he’s dead.” The small snow leopard in Lu Yao’s arms was oblivious to the conversation about life and death, still kneading at his shoulder with clumsy little paws.
The seven snow leopards Zhou Yunchen had left behind had been confirmed as clones of a large snow leopard, likely a marvel of Villeau civilization. They wouldn’t grow, wouldn’t turn into humans, and were otherwise no different from a real snow leopard. Lu Yao had kept them by his side ever since.
“So? You came to the hospital’s hibernation zone for…?” Chang Jian asked cautiously. From the moment he saw Lu Yao’s location, a sense of worry had risen—he feared Lu Yao might be off course. Lu Yao opened his mouth, then decided to skip explanation and pushed the screen in front of Chang Jian. A voluntary hibernation agreement?
Chang Jian’s heart sank. He scrolled down to see how long Lu Yao intended to hibernate—five years? ten? But at the bottom, it was an indefinite-type agreement.
The Federation allowed citizens to voluntarily hibernate. There were two types: fixed-period and indefinite. Indefinite hibernation required a designated awakener, someone with a legal relationship to the sleeper—parents, children, relatives, or a legally recognized spouse.
Lu Yao’s agreement explicitly stated that the spouse would determine the awakening time. But Zhou Yunchen was still somewhere adrift in the universe.
Chang Jian’s mind went numb as pieces fell into place. “So that’s why you registered your marriage the day before Zhou Yunchen left? You’d already anticipated him… you…”
He froze, speechless. He should have realized sooner that Lu Yao didn’t care about legal marriage. Without a special reason, he wouldn’t have suddenly proposed.
“You don’t want to wait any longer, so you intend to escape through hibernation?” Chang Jian asked, gazing into Lu Yao’s eyes. But those eyes were so calm, with no tremor or regret.
“Because I hope he will come back,” Lu Yao said, scrolling the agreement screen again.
“And who will take care of your snow leopards if you hibernate?”
“I left instructions with Deus to send the snow leopards to Yan Jiujang for care. They’re creations of Villeau power; no matter how you raise them, they won’t be harmed.”
“But Zhou Yunchen left the snow leopards for you to accompany you. If you hibernate, who will keep them company?”
Lu Yao’s hand froze. He licked his dry lips. “He intended the snow leopards to keep me company for three years. After that, he assumed I would forget him and start a new life.”
“I don’t care if you start a new life. But you can’t stop living entirely. You want to hibernate for five or ten years, fine—but waiting for a vague, uncertain awakening? No. Don’t do that, Lu Yao. I’m begging you.”
The small snow leopard, startled by Chang Jian’s raised voice, stopped kneading Lu Yao’s shoulder and curled into his arms, squeaking softly. Drawn by the sound, another snow leopard poked its head out of Lu Yao’s open backpack, squeaking as well. A lone nurse passing by glimpsed the two tiny snow leopards, eyes wide in surprise.
“You want me to wait independently and strongly… just like people expect that hero to be fearless and self-sacrificing,” Lu Yao said, stroking the snow leopard’s head. The little creature licked his fingers. He felt the warmth, closed his eyes…
He shut the screen. “I won’t hibernate.”
“Really?” Chang Jian’s eyes lit up with hope.
“Yes.” Lu Yao put the two small snow leopards back into his backpack, gently pressing their curious heads down. “Let’s go buy some fresh meat. They like lamb.”
General Zhou Yunchen had the sight of a thousand miles and the hearing of the wind; he mastered every change on the battlefield and ultimately led the army back twelve years to eradicate the beasts and seal the rift. Director Lu Yao, with an IQ of 1500 and a flash of genius, had instantly conceived the gravity decomposition technology and the Hollow Strike Plan. And this couple—their history of arranged marriage, distant cordiality, documentary-style reunions, and wedding under fire—had been exaggerated by outsiders into a story of a brilliant omega trapped by forced matching, suffering cold treatment, and finally chasing his alpha, taming him step by step, until the alpha was willing to traverse time and risk fate for him.
Mo Feng often chuckled, showing these bizarre stories to Lu Yao, marveling at how some netizens assumed he had already passed away, earning many eye-rolls from Lu Yao in response.
Today, Lu Yao went to give a lecture at the Military Academy. In the hallway, he overheard some freshmen remark, “Lu Yao is the lecturer? I thought he was just a figure from history! I assumed he was dead!”
Lu Yao, “…”
When the class bell rang, he walked across the corridor and ascended the podium, taking his seat with a cold expression amid a chorus of astonished gasps. For most of the freshmen, this was the first time seeing Lu Yao in person. They had imagined the historical hero as a white-haired elder, but Director Lu, while cold and stern in temperament, was in his prime, with no wrinkles or grey hair, as if time had stopped on his face. When he spoke, his voice was like ice and a blade, instantly capturing every student’s attention.
The beast tides had receded, reducing the Federation’s need for mecha, but to prevent another rift, the military still maintained a fleet of mecha and combat teams. The Mecha Research Institute shifted its focus to space exploration mecha, dedicating much of its personnel and funding to rift research and new energy. It has become a new academic hub for rift studies.
Lu Yao lectured the freshmen on mecha design and construction, then transitioned to rift studies. The latter topic was dense and abstruse. The students’ initial excitement gradually waned, heads nodding toward sleep, their only alertness sustained by the shock of seeing Director Lu’s striking appearance. Three hours into the lecture, Lu Yao’s personal AI assistant vibrated.
During class, he muted all nonessential notifications; only the most urgent could break through—like a Mecha Research Institute accident or a beast tide. What could this be?
Frowning, Lu Yao opened the message: “I’m back. Waiting at the entrance.”
He turned to see the classroom door, which hadn’t closed, giving him a clear view of the corridor. The over three hundred freshmen watched, wide-eyed, as Director Lu suddenly leapt from his seat, saying nothing, disregarding everything, and dashed out of the classroom, his coat flaring high behind him. The sender was standing at the corridor’s far end. As Lu Yao approached, the figure turned and entered an adjacent empty classroom. Lu Yao sprinted forward, threw open the door, and charged in.
The room was small, bathed in soft pink sunlight that reached the opposite wall. Standing by the window was a man in a pale blue military uniform, back straight. The uniform was no longer pristine; repeated washing had deformed it, with rough patches at the edges, but the man’s posture remained as tall and solid as a mountain. He turned to face Lu Yao, who approached step by step.
“Zhou Yunchen…” Lu Yao’s voice trembled. “You’re back…”
“Yes, just arrived,” Zhou Yunchen said, low and hoarse.
He didn’t look his best. His shoulders were thinner, his hair unevenly cut, and he hadn’t bothered to groom the scruffy stubble on his face, rushing to see Lu Yao. He looked as disheveled as the small snow leopards at home, who were poor at grooming themselves.
Fine lines at the corners of his eyes betrayed the passage of time, but the depth and tenderness in his gaze remained unchanged. Even if time and distance had worn them, it was as if the meeting had not diminished a single thread of their connection. He reached out his hand, but Lu Yao leapt directly into his arms. The familiar scent and warmth wrapped Lu Yao, confirming that this was no repeated illusion. Zhou Yunchen was truly back. “I will return to your side, through the crowds, across the starry seas.”
The End.
Author’s note:
The main story ends here! Thank you all for accompanying Lu Yao and the snow leopards all the way to this point.
Next, there will be extras—tentatively, one where Lu Yao transforms into a big cat and shares intimate moments with the snow leopards. We haven’t decided which type of big cat yet; any ideas?
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